The next day, Henry and his crew put together the most beautiful kitchen I’ve ever seen. It is in the same style and spirit of the house. I’m glad that he has understood exactly what I wanted, and the feeling I wanted to create. A feeling of beauty and happiness, just like the life I’ve lived here.
But I mustn’t dwell – I’ve got lots of work to do before I go. As far as the Wickford Dream is concerned, my emails and phones calls remain unanswered, and barring disguising myself as one of their cleaning people or dog walkers, I’ve run out of options. If I can’t even get their attention, how am I supposed to impress them with my work? They call themselves the patrons of interior design, and yet they are completely unapproachable. I’ve tried absolutely everything, bar parachuting myself into their back garden. I probably would if I knew their home address, but their offices alone are like a bloody fortress.
My eye falls on the table that Henry delivered the day we met. It’s a beautiful piece of oak wood, honed with expertise, patience and love. The lines are simple with subtle details that don’t scream out I’m better than the rest, even though it is much more beautiful than any table I’ve ever seen before. It has lines that speak of hours and hours of dedication. When he made it, he wasn’t looking for industrial perfection, but rather a uniqueness that holds all the expertise dictated by pure attention to detail and… otherness. Anyone who is capable of making something so beautiful deserves some serious respect. But that still doesn’t change the fact that he’s played with my feelings.
You know when you’re on a bad roll and everything’s going awry, and it can’t get any worse? Well, think again, because it can. Proof? A feature article on none other than Vanessa Chatsbury herself. She has just won an award for Designer of the Year, presented to her by guess who? Exactly, the Wickfords.
I stare at the two-paged slap in the face that pictures her at some ceremony venue that I have completely missed.
Another picture shows Vanessa baking a cake with her mum in a huge Victorian kitchen, her long arms around the Maggie Smith lookalike who is bursting with pride for her daughter. Not only does Vanessa have a home of her own, she has parents who still put up with all of her shenanigans. I swallow the lump in my throat. I’d do anything to have a photo with a mother who loves me and is proud of me. Vanessa truly has everything.
But I wouldn’t trade with her. Because I have Hope and Verity and Jowen. Let Vanessa win all the engineered awards. I’ll meet and impress the Wickfords someday. Maybe not today, or tomorrow. Maybe I’ll be able to do some good work in New York, because I am obviously done here. Maybe this town really isn’t big enough for the both of us after all.
For years I had put Gabe at the fore of my life, while all the hopes and dreams I’ve clung on to all that time have brought me nothing but upset, disappointment and heartache. I guess that, in order to move on, I had to move out first. Now, if only I could move out emotionally. I have to do this if I don’t want to go insane. So New York it is. A brand-new start. Start spreading the news indeed!
*
The next day I get to the beach house uber-early. Now that I know what my goal is, I want to put this job, the house and Gabe all behind me.
And Henry. Not my biggest error of judgement ever, granted. But possibly the most painful one, which is a mystery of its own. You’d think I’d be much more hurt by Gabe’s two-fold betrayal than the so-called misunderstanding with Henry. But I’m not. Because just thinking about Henry makes my heart ba-boom without any control, and all the could-have-beens make me want to cry until I suddenly burst into fits of laughter. But, as they say, onward and upward; the sky is the limit and all that codswallop.
As I’m the first one in, I go into the new kitchen to brew a pot of coffee. As I’m preparing all the mugs for everyone on a tray, I catch a slight keening sound. Is it a seagull? No, it’s not acute enough. I stop to listen carefully, and there it is again. It’s coming from Gabe’s office.
I put my cup down quietly and tiptoe to the closed door and slowly open it a crack, only to find Gabe slumped at his desk, his head on his forearms. He is shaking visibly and loud hiccups escape him. I know that sound. He is trying to suffocate his sobs, like when his cousin Charlie died.
I open the door all the way and take a step towards him. It is so rare to see him cry, especially like this, so it must be something dreadfully serious.
‘Gabe?’ I whisper. ‘Are you all right?’
Gabe bolts to a sitting position, swiping at his eyes.
‘What’s happened? Is everything okay?’ To see him cry so desperately, for one horrible second, I fear the worst has happened and that the baby’s life is in danger.
‘Nothing’s okay, Faith, and it never will be…’ he bawls, pushing his fists into his eyes again.
I pull myself up onto the desk. I hate to see him like this. ‘Tell me,’ I say gently. ‘Don’t keep it all bottled up. Dr Banks said it’s not good for you.’
‘Sod Dr Banks. What does he know about heartbreak?’
‘I’m sorry…’ I say, and this time I mean it. People breaking up and families falling apart is my worst fear, even if it has nothing to do with me.
‘Don’t be,’ he hiccups. ‘It isn’t your fault, really…’
I nod in sympathy, then stop as his words sink in. ‘Wait, what do you mean it’s not my fault really?’
He heaves a huge sigh, wiping his eyes that have become like two huge red traffic lights as he looks up at me pleadingly and takes my hand.
‘I know I’ve hurt you, Faith, and I’m really, really sorry…’
I look down at him and his blond spikes that are less spiky than usual, and the downturned mouth that I’ve kissed so many times no longer holds any appeal to me. Even the iconic tongue and lip design on his Rolling Stones T-shirt seems to be sulking, and I can find in my heart no tolerance for this man who has already hurt me so badly in so many ways.
‘Vanessa is furious with me. That’s why we split up and despite the fact I’ve seen other girls, there’s not a day that goes by that she doesn’t accuse me of still being in love with you.’
I make an effort not to snort. ‘Well then, talk to her. Reassure her.’
‘Reassure her, of what? She’s absolutely right.’ He sits further back, his eyes on mine, beseeching, his hands holding both of mine in his. ‘I am still in love with you, Faith – more than ever.’
Oh my God, Please don’t, I want to say, a sudden knot in my throat. It’s taken me forever to come to terms with it all. I can’t go through all those ups and downs again.
Gabe runs a hand though his hair. ‘I can’t believe I’m saying this – I promised myself I’d behave and not say anything. But I miss you, Faith.’
I stare at him, feeling my eyes actually pop in shock. ‘You what…?’
‘Yes, Faith, I really, really do. We’ve tried to patch things up for the baby’s sake, but it’s an absolute bloody nightmare. Vanessa screams all the time and I can’t take it anymore. Our flat is an absolute tip despite having a housekeeper, and she is always miserable for some reason or other.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that, Gabe.’ Truly, I am. Once you’ve loved someone as much as I loved Gabe, all you want is for them to be happy, and often to your own detriment.
He looks around the room. ‘This place, Faith, without you? It’s nothing but a shell. I miss our happy home. Please come back to me…’
And before I know it, he’s reached out and pulled me towards him by my shoulders, our faces inches apart. We are so close I can see his eyes are bloodshot from all the crying. Wait, no. I can smell liquor on his breath. Fresh liquor. He’s been drinking again. And it’s not even noon.
I instinctively pull away, but his hands are firm on my shoulders, dragging me back to where he wants me. I push him away and jump back.
‘I am not a doll you can throw around as you like, Gabe!’ I cry. ‘You left me! And then you wanted me back. And you got her pregnant. You’ve done me enough damage, and you’ve made your bed. Now sleep in it!’
‘I know – don’t say it,’ he says, holding his head as if to keep it together. ‘But, Babes – this is us here. Historical Us. Just like the new song I’m writing. It’s about you.’
‘Oh, Gawd…’ I groan.
‘Are you really willing to let me go – forever?’
‘Why not? You bloody well were.’
‘But I’ve realised the error of my ways.’
‘Gabe – for years I was your adoring number-one supporter. I did everything for you. I liaised with your agent, I gave you advice on your career and even your songs. I cooked and cleaned. I made a home for us. We were everything to each other.’
He lurches forward again for my arms, but I move back.
‘Gabe, you broke my heart. And now you do this to me? Just how lowly do you think of me if you expect me to come running as if I was extremely grateful to you for taking me back – twice?’
He opens and closes his mouth but nothing comes out.
‘No, Gabe. Not happening this time.’
‘But I love you,’ he finally whines.
‘I loved you, too. But now? It’s much too little, much too late,’ I snap and march out of the room, my head about to explode.
As I slip into the loo to wash my face, I hear a car pull up in the drive. I can’t wait to get the hell out of this place. It used to be my home, but now, just like Gabe, it has brought me nothing but misery.
When I go back into the kitchen, I step into a whirlwind of arms and legs. It’s Gabe and Travis, wrestling each other like two completely clueless schoolboys.
‘Stop!’ I scream. ‘What is the matter with you two? Gabe! Travis! Stop right now!’
They haven’t even seen, much less heard me, but a flying fist catches me right under my left eye. I buckle under the pain, swaying back until I reach the wall. Only it’s not the wall. It’s – you guessed it – Henry, followed by the rest of my crew who tear the two apart.
‘What the hell—?’ Henry demands.
I try to answer him, but my entire world is spinning and fading to black. The last thing I remember is being scooped up into his arms.
*
I am lying on a soft surface with half my face missing. At least I think so, because I can’t feel it.
‘There you are…’ says a low voice, almost a growl. I open my eyes to a bright ceiling and then I close them again.
‘This way, Faith,’ the voice says, a little gentler, accompanied by a hand on my chin. I’d recognise that touch anywhere. Henry. ‘Open your eyes.’
‘It hurts too much,’ I croak.
‘You’ll be better by and by,’ he assures me. ‘It’s just a black eye.’
And then I remember. ‘Travis… and Gabe.’
‘Yes.’
‘I tried to stop them, but—’
‘It’s okay,’ he whispers, taking my hand. ‘They’ve been sorted out.’
‘Where is everybody?’
‘On strict orders to not bother you. Now that you’re awake, I’m taking you home.’
‘No, uhm, it’s okay…’ I say. ‘I can stay. I’ve got work to do.’
‘I insist,’ he says, wrapping me up in a quilt and bundling me into his car like a sausage roll in the space of a minute.
My crew is now at the front door, waving sympathetically. I roll my window down. ‘I’m so sorry, guys, I’ll be back tomorrow…’
‘Bye, luv.’ Thea blows me kisses while all the men are scowling, but there is no sign of either Gabe or Travis.
‘Are you warm enough?’ Henry asks as he drives off slowly.
‘Yes,’ I murmur. ‘Thank you. You didn’t have to drive me. I could have gone by myself.’
He snorts. ‘With one eye closed? Not happening. At least not on my watch.’
‘Oh. Well, thank you.’
He doesn’t answer. Nor does he say anything for the rest of the drive home, which is nice as it allows me to nurse my headache in peace.
Upon arrival, he helps me out of the car and into the lift where he stands opposite me, his eyes fixed ahead but I am under the impression that, should my knees buckle, he will be there to catch me.
Henry. Honourable, lovely Henry. I love everything about him; the way he is always so well-mannered and gentlemanly. The way he lowers his eyes and his lean cheeks redden in utter shyness. How can he not know how gorgeous he is? He was certainly raised properly to respect people and be honourable, even to his own detriment.
I can’t believe Henry is here in my flat. I thought I’d never see him here again. And now that he’s here, I have so many things to say to him.
Once inside the door, he leads me to the settee and helps me onto it. Then he reaches inside my tiny freezer and pulls out a bag of peas which he places onto my eye.
‘Oh, ouch. Thank you. I—’
‘Thea has texted your sister. She’s going to be here in a few minutes.’
‘Oh, but you needn’t have worried. I’m perfectly okay.’ If you don’t count my heart that is in smithereens, that is.
‘It’s done, now. I’ve got to go.’
‘Okay. Thank you once again.’
‘It’s nothing,’ he murmurs and without looking at me, he gets up and leaves.
*
‘He what?’ Hope cries as she’s adjusting my cushion. ‘How could he leave you on your own like this?’
‘He didn’t leave me. He knew you were coming. Plus, it’s only a black eye, I’m not dying.’
‘But still. What’s wrong with this bloke?’
‘Nothing, apart from the fact that he’s finally realised he’s still involved with his wife.’
‘So, moral of the story?’
I shrug. ‘I guess I should be grateful he came to my rescue at all.’
‘Some knight in shining armour,’ she snaps.
‘Hope, really, what did you expect, for him to confess his undying love to me?’
‘Something along those lines, yes.’
I huff. ‘Okay, impending and very necessary reality check: he’s back with his wife, remember?’
‘Then he should dump her.’
‘Why, just to make you happy?’
‘And Orson. And you. What good can come out of his being married to someone he doesn’t love?’
‘How can you say that?’
‘I don’t know. Listen, I need a huge favour, but if you’re not up to it—?’
‘I’m perfectly fine, it’s just a black eye.’
‘Okay, then, good, because I’m at my wits’ end.’
‘Of course, shoot.’
‘That geography project at school?’
‘The World Monuments night? I’m done with the costumes, they’re ready to go.’
‘Great, thanks. Because I can’t. Turns out I have to do an extra shift. We’ve got a dinner for members of the G8, can you bloody believe it? I’ve tried to get out of it but—’
‘I’ll go,’ I offer. ‘When is it again?’
‘Oh, God bless you, thank you! It’s Friday evening at five.’
‘Sure.’
‘Okay, then, I’ll text you the details. I owe you one!’
I’m more than happy for the chance to spend some time with Verity and Jowen, probably the closest thing I’ll ever have to kids of my own. Plus, they’ll look really cute in those monument outfits I sewed for them.
‘It’s nothing, Hope. Now please go home.’
‘Are you sure?’
I roll my eyes. ‘Go.’
‘All right, then. Call me if you need me.’
‘Don’t worry, I’ll be fine,’ I say, shooing her away. ‘Give my love to the kiddies.’
‘I will,’ she says, kissing my cheek. ‘You’re an absolute star!’
Alone again. Actually, I don’t mind. I need the time to think. What the hell had happened back there? Why were Gabe and Travis fighting?
And speak of the devil, my mobile rings. It’s Travis. ‘Oh. Hi.’
‘How’s the eye?’
‘It’s better, thank you,’ I answer.
‘I’m really sorry about that.’
‘What happened, Travis? Why were you and Gabe fighting?’
Travis sighs. ‘Let’s just say that Gabe is not exactly a man of his word. But that’s okay because I have a couple of interested buyers.’
Oh my God. ‘Oh?’
‘Yes, one’s a friend of a friend back in the States. And one’s a local. Had his eye on it for years now.’
Let it go, Faith. It’s not your home anymore. Just accept it and move on. ‘Right.’
*
I spend the rest of the next day running errands and on the phone with Thea who reassures me every time she picks up that yes, everything is under control. Both Gabe and Travis are off site. But the amazing news is that Henry has actually found the original wainscoting that has been unceremoniously dumped at a reclamation yard, and he is working hard to restore it.
He’s been true to his word. All that time I’d worried about it being gone forever, and once again, he’s come through. I can’t ignore his enormous effort and very considerate gesture. Granted, he did it before we fell out, but still. I’ll have to at least send him a message to thank him, because in a few days he’ll be done and gone. I’ll bet he can’t wait to get out of that madhouse.
A sudden string of pings from my mobile alerts me to an entire series of missed calls. They are all from Henry. What can he possibly want from me? I know it’s not about Orson or work, because Thea would have told me. I swipe at my eyes. I can’t be doing this. I can’t be suddenly tearing up every time at the mere thought of him.
I’m almost home, so I press the off button on my phone and in that split second I’ve taken my eye off the road, someone, out of absolutely nowhere, materialises right in front of me. I hit the brakes, but it’s too late.